Misery Business
by Sumioney
Summary: AU. You know that one day you'll have to stop running, but you pray that that day never comes.
1. Prologue

´¨¤.¸¸_A Suki and Mio Collaboration_´¨¤.¸¸

Suki (Gray-Rain Skies) here! This story is something new that Ana (silvermoondroplet) and I are trying out. The idea for it struck her a few days ago, and I thought it sounded awesome, so now we're writing it together. At the moment, it looks like it's going to be six chapters in length (that's what we're shooting for), but the fic is still in its early stages, so there are no guarantees. It's exciting, though. The idea's a good one. I'm having a blast writing my portion of the story, and Ana's sections are blowing my mind out of the water. Therefore, it's required that you love this story and leave many reviews! Well, no, but that would be nice, haha.

This collab is a Kairi- and Axel-centered story, filled with tragedy, drama, angst, and romance. In each chapter - prologue excluded - our styles of writing will blend together, so that we can fabricate this story for you, and we sincerely hope that you enjoy the end result. Therefore, without further ado, we introduce _Misery Business _for your reading pleasure.

**Disclaimer**: Don't own it.

-- - --

They're more than slightly drunk.

Kairi, because she's the one who's most sober, gasps over her giggles and marches her friends out of the bar. Or tries to. Olette is more than willing to leave – she was forced into their revelry after her loud row with Hayner, and she is extremely ready to return home and apologize to him now. Selphie wants to stay, slurring her words into Olette's ear even as the curly-haired brunette pleads for Kairi to get a move on, insisting that there are plenty of fish in a basket and she shouldn't get her feathers tarred to a wall. Kairi doubles over and clutches her sides, her knees buckling as hysterical laughter wracks her frame, and Olette, tripping over her feet, tries to make sense of Selphie's statement in her sluggish brain.

Yuffie, meanwhile, is raising up raucous shouts as she dances on a table, some poor man's hat stolen from his head and resting sideways now on her hair. She's kicking glasses filled with beer onto the floor in her stupor, her own drink sloshing in her hand and splashing her wrist with alcohol, but her face is flushed with excitement and she doesn't care that some old slob is grasping at her thigh and trying to tug her into his lap.

Kairi, pushing hair out of her face as she straightens, laughs once more at the way Selphie is trying to drag a protesting Olette over to a man propped up against the far wall. Shaking her head, the red-haired girl places two fingers between her lips and whistles shrilly – Yuffie stops mid-dance, raises a holler, and leaps off the table, grabbing hold of Selphie's shoulders thereafter with a grin and steering both brunettes out of doors.

As they trip and stumble through the parking lot, the lights from the club pulsing with music and laughter guiding their way, Kairi giggles uncontrollably and fishes through her purse for her keys. Yuffie is bouncing up and down several feet in front of her, jumping her way to their car, punching the air with her fists as she whirls around and crows, impeccably keeping her balance despite being wasted. As Selphie snorts in laughter and Olette whines about how worried Hayner must be, Kairi locates her car keys and Yuffie pretends she's a plane, her lips making motor sounds as she stretches her arms out wide and spirals and circles around the half-emptied lot.

"Shotgun!" Selphie immediately shrieks, not bothering to temper her voice in the after-midnight air, and stumbles for the yellow bug whose lights are cutting through the dark, dark night as its alarm switches off.

Olette shivers and sniffles as Yuffie clambers into the back seat, her wild spirit scrunched up too tightly in the small space. As Kairi smiles and slings her arm around the curly-haired brunette's shoulders, she laughs at how Selphie fiddles with buttons that will not turn out and Yuffie splays her feet out in between the two front seats, swaying back and forth as she screeches out some self-copyrighted ninja song. Kairi guides the petite brunette around the small, yellow bug, and Olette sighs and pulls at the door, growing frustrated when her grip proves too slack and the door stubbornly remains closed. Shaking her head with a patient smile, Kairi leans forward and unlatches the door for her friend, and Olette slides in behind Selphie.

Rounding the front of her car, Kairi smoothes her hair out of her face; the light shift of wind lifts it off her neck and drags it through the air. Dropping resolutely into her driver's seat, she pulls her door shut and shoves her keys into the ignition, the teeth scraping clumsily against it several times before they find their way home. As she turns the key and the motor roars to life, Selphie hits another button with a maniacal grin and pounding music shrieks through the small apartment of the car, so that Olette slaps her hands against her ears and whines, Yuffie lets out a joyous whoop, and Selphie dances excitedly in her seat. Laughing, Kairi rolls down the windows, lets out a cheer, and steps on the gas, careening out of the parking lot.

The night is dark. The road is quiet. The only disturbance comes in the form of their flashing bug, racing far over the speed limit along the main road and away from Twilight Town's life and vigor. The music throbs in the quiet night, and Selphie, tongue sticking out of her mouth in concentration, fishes through her purse for candy. Olette, in the back, sobs into her hands and talks about Hayner – she always was and always would be a sad, depressed drunk. Yuffie, paying her no mind, covers one eye with her hand and talks like a pirate, but her words are either slurred or interrupted by uncontrollable laughter. Kairi, her eyes shooting to the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of her friend, immediately snorts and bows her head as giggles tumble from her lips.

"Yer…yer swerving, Kai-Kai," Selphie admonishes as she glances over at her friend. "Yer _drunk_. I…I should drive!"

"Selphie, you are _not _driving," Kairi laughs, securing both hands on the wheel once more and straightening her shoulders as she pulls away from the double lines. "I'm the most put together person here at the moment, anyway."

"Suit yers—" Selphie hiccups. "…yerself." Once more she plunges her hand into the mysterious depths of her purse, dislodging a cell phone from the contents, which falls unnoticed by her to the floor.

Haunting yellow lights shine down the road, and Kairi realizes that she's relieved to see other signs of life. She doesn't really like driving. She'd rather be a passenger. But her friends are drunk, and she hardly trusts them to drive when they're sober. So as the car rushes by, the sound of it passing a whispering sigh in her ears, she forces out a breath and shakes herself, keeping her car straight. Her vision is a little hazy, and she feels a bit tired, but she knows that home is not so far away.

"I'M A LITTLE TEAPOT—!"

Kairi jumps, and then she shakes her head with laughter. "Yuffie, shut the hell up!"

"No fuckin' candy," Selphie grumbles at her side, pulling forth from her purse one vibrant, yellow stocking with disdain. "I've socks, but no candy. Sucks."

"How nice, Selphie." Kairi's hands tighten on the wheel. She switches to high beams, and a weight lifts off her chest as the black night is shredded by the ethereal glow. The shadowed sides of the road flicker in her peripheral vision, small patches of grass and dirt licking against the road as they emerge from the darkness of a world beyond the asphalt.

Suddenly, darkness closes around her eyes. "Guess who!" Yuffie giggles, and Kairi jumps, jerking her head away.

"Not funny, Yuff!" she cries frantically as Selphie shrieks with laughter and doubles over, her purse tumbling off her lap. Yuffie, in the back, is kicking her feet as her head lolls back and forth in hysterical delight. Olette remains tearful, sniveling and tracing patterns on the back of Selphie's headrest. "God, you're a nightmare." Nervously, Kairi pats the wheel beneath her palms. "We could've gotten into an accident."

"'cause there're _so _many people a_roun_'," Yuffie laughs, and Kairi shoots her a glare through the rearview mirror. The short-haired girl merely makes a face, sticking out her tongue as she pulls at the corners of her mouth with her fingers, and the redhead's anger ebbs away, replaced with ridiculous giggling.

"I hate you," she chastises.

"I…I love _all _you guys!" Olette wails beside Yuffie. "Yer…m'best _friends_."

"Fuck." In belated realization, Selphie stares at her empty lap, an incredulous expression painted across her features. "It fell."

"Then get it, shit for brains," Yuffie teases, crossing her ankles resolutely between the two seats and linking her fingers behind her head.

Groaning, Selphie lurches forward, and Kairi tosses her a skeptical look. "No puking in my baby, Selph."

"Yes, Mother," the brunette retorts sarcastically, the ends of her hair bobbing as she gropes around for her dislodged belongings. Resting her elbow against the window, Kairi leans her cheek against her hand and sighs, watching as another car passes on by. Her forefinger rubs idly at her temple, and she yawns widely, her exhaustion creeping up on her little by little.

Again she checks the rearview mirror, and she is relieved to realize that Olette has cried herself to sleep. Yuffie, her right foot bobbing without rhythm, is humming happily under her breath, her head swaying as she watches the shadows pass over the ceiling of the bug. Selphie, meanwhile, is still furiously stuffing odds and ends into her bag, her hazy, green eyes glittering with frustration.

The redhead listens as, with a huff of breath, Selphie straightens in her seat at last. Prodding against her cheek with her knuckles, she smiles and looks over to the brunette, who is shoving pens, loosened coins, ribbons from somewhere, and peculiar-looking whistles into her bag, her hand forcing them to the very bottom in case they decide to attempt a magical leap of escape later. With a sigh the brunette finally settles into her passenger's seat, and a calm atmosphere descends upon the group. Kairi finally punches the button to the radio and kills the power.

The road is quiet again, but the silence is sweet. She can hear the whisper of grass as the wind blows it down to the earth, and the crickets raise up a throaty symphony that blends with the rush of tires on concrete. Smiling, Kairi hums a gentle tune of her own, her head swaying in time with the melody, and liquidly the wheel turns beneath her hand as she rounds the corner a little too quickly. She is far over the indicated speed limit, and so she attempts to slow down.

With a quick look she notices that Yuffie is fogging up the window on her side with her breath, then tracing swears onto the glass with a smug expression on her face. Rolling her eyes, Kairi turns to Selphie, who is once more rifling through her purse, as if she has forgotten that nothing promising lays within its folds. As she turns back to her wheel, however, a flash of light catches her eye, and she glances down between the seats. A yellow, sequined phone meets her stare, a number flashing on the screen. The name says Tidus.

Smiling, Kairi realizes that she has discovered what Selphie has been searching for frantically. Her boyfriend is no doubt checking up on her, since she hadn't called earlier. Keeping her wheel turned decidedly left, she leans down and gropes for the phone, which has wedged itself stubborn between the cup-holder and her chair. Biting her lip, she feels her fingertips brush against the glittering sequins, and futilely she gropes for the cell, frustrated that it continues to evade her grasp.

Faint, pale lights slither across her arms and along the ceiling as she remains hunched over. Knitting her brow, she forces her hand further down, and finally her fingers close around the phone. Triumphantly she pulls it free, but it falls from her grasp in surprise when Selphie shrieks with fright, "KAIRI, THE ROAD!"

Olette is jostled from her sleep by the scream, and Kairi straightens to see a motorcycle heading straight for her. She swears and swerves the wheel, sending Yuffie crashing against the glass, but her speed is too much, and she can't keep the car under control. She's aware of the cell phone rolling around by her feet, Olette's frantic cry, and her own wild heartbeat as the lights blaze sharply into the windshield. The black world fades in and out of white as the cyclist swerves to get out of the way, but the space is too small, and her car is going far too fast.

They collide in a sickening crash.

-- - --

End prologue. Please review.


	2. Rewind

a/n: Ana reporting :) So Suki and I have been working our asses off on this. And lemme tell you, it's really epic. Both in the OMG SO EPIC WIN! way and the whole length thing. It's nearly killed me, but I would like to thank everyone who reviewed. And who will in the future review. (You want to have a happy Suki and Ana, you read and review.) Um, so that whole six chapters thing? We lied. It's up in the air right now. I don't even know. AXEL DOESN'T EVEN KNOW. IF YOU LOOK, you can totally see our writing styles collided, mashing, and whatnot. It's insane. But amazing. I feeling I'm rambling –

DISCLAIMER TIEM!: Dear reader, this is obviously the bitching owners of Kingdom Hearts. Obviously. Xion is an April fool's joke. All themes, characters, and whatnot belong to their respective owners, who, despite contrary belief, are not Suki or Ana. The plot, however, is all owned by these epic people. And also writing styles, which are pwnful.

Note: Ana shouldn't be allowed to post serious business Author Notes.

READING TIEM!

_x_ – _x _– _x_

Rain trickles down her face as she steps off the bus. She pulls her black hood up, blocking her face, just in case – it protects her from the rain, which is starting to come down hard.

She needs a place to crash.

Violet eyes travel across the street, searching for somewhere. Anywhere will do for the first night. She spots a small coffee shop a short distance away and looks both ways, but not for cars – just a familiar face. The face that haunts her dreams. She shivers, holding her arms out as she crosses the street, just like her friend Yuffie used to. But that was before everything changed.

She sits down in the coffee shop, shivering from the cold outside – her hair is mangled and wet, hanging in her face. She tucks the loose ends behind her ears, checking both ways before she finally takes off her hood. She lets out a sigh of relief, setting her bag next to her. One eye surveys the room. It's a cute coffee shop, and it's the graveyard shift, so there's hardly anyone here. Just she, the true coffee addicted insomniacs, and the workers. Kairi checks her watch. Three-seventeen a.m.

"Welcome to the Hearts Café. What can I get for you?" asks a young blonde girl her age. She's wearing an all white dress. As she makes her way over to Kairi, Kairi notices she's very pale, but it only enhances her clear, blue eyes. Kairi blinks, remembering his face; blue eyes, clear as day. She's shaking by the time the girl had approaches her. Her small smile is quickly replaced with a concerned expression. "Miss, are you all right?"

Breathe, keep it together, she prompts herself as she takes a deep breath, nodding, reassuring nobody but herself. "I'd like a mocha latté." The blonde nods and cautiously walks away, just in case Kairi suddenly falls apart.

"_I wanted a _smoothie_,"_ he complains. Chills runs up her spine, as they always do when he appears. He has been popping up for the past two months, without fail – forever reminding her of what she had done. Blond spikes sticking up and blue eyes staring at her angrily in a faux pout…she can run her hands right through him.

"Fuck off," she hisses under her breath. It's bad enough that she hears voices – but it's worse that she talks to them, too.

"_I'd like to, but you've kinda made that impossible."_ He crosses his arms with a smirk, but Kairi just stares at his transparent forehead. She ignores his subtle hints, the ones that at one time had reduced her to tears. But now, they are nothing – he is nothing but her guilt speaking. _"So where are we this time?"_

"Destiny Island," she replies, not looking away as the waitress walks right through him. He shrugs, undisturbed.

"_An ocean apart."_ He looks out the window, yearning for the very thing from which she is running away.

"That's kind of the point." She takes a sip of her mocha as he glares at her, her thoughts far away. It should be far away enough that it would take him enough weeks to track her. She is safe, if only for the moment. For the first time in weeks, she relaxes.

"_He'll find you. He always will," _he tells her, reading her thoughts. She slams her hands on the table, knocking over her drink. "_Is that supposed to shut me up? I'm really quaking in my boots." _

"Don't you have a school to haunt?" She grabs a napkin, ignoring the uneasy glances she is getting from the waitress. With one swoosh, she began to clean it up, sighing wearily. She needs to control her temper.

"_I'm all yours."_ She rolls her eyes, throwing both a tip and the bill she owes down onto the table. She wanders up to the waitress, whose face is hidden behind a sketchbook. He follows behind her, hands clasped behind his head. Someone puts a hand on her shoulder, and she freezes. He rolls his eyes, shaking his head – and she relaxes a little. It isn't him. Instead, it's a silver-haired boy. He too has light blue eyes and a fair complexion.

"I wouldn't interrupt her while she's drawing," he tells Kairi, looking at the waitress fondly. "Naminé tends to kill." Kairi nods as if she understands this joke and puts on a small smile. She hears the blond mumble _plastic_, but she ignores him – now isn't the time to argue with the voice inside her head.

"Hi. I'm Selphie." Lies, lies, lies. Another place, a different name – it will only keep her safe for so long. "And I was wondering if this place was hiring?" She has worked, everywhere and everything. School is out of the question. It's just too risky. And having a love life isn't even worth thinking about. The only thing Kairi can care about is staying alive, and even that is hard.

"Selphie Tilmitt?" he asks with curious blue eyes.

She freezes. Oh, shit, her mind is blank. Didn't Selphie once mention something about growing up on the Island? She thinks about it hard, but she is drawing a blank with a capital _B_, and he's still waiting for an answer.

"_Way to go, Kairi. Eventually you were bound to get caught," _he condemns, _tsk_ing and shaking his head. She just glares at him, ignoring his comment and racking her brain for an answer.

"No," she tries, and he easily shrugs it off. Crisis averted. It's a pretty close call, but not as bad as the first time she used her real name. Nothing was worse than that.

He waggles his fingers, motioning for her to follow him past Naminé, who is heavily into her work.

"I'm Riku. I own this dump." His hands stretch out from wall to wall. Kairi shrugs. She thinks it's a nice little coffee shop. Black and white walls covered with random paintings and various scribbles, bean bag chairs for seats around the fireplace, and tables by the window, like the one Kairi had been sitting at. Riku pulls a plastic cup out for himself, and Kairi just watches as he pours coffee into it. Heat radiates from the liquid, and Kairi just wants to grab it, she is so cold. "We're kind of short on hands, so you would have to start right away…"

She nods vigorously. This is perfect. He smiles at her enthusiasm, his fingers playing with the rim of his cup. "But." Her face falls. There is no such thing as perfect when she has a psycho trying to kill her. What was she thinking? She looks over at her blond haired companion, who is standing behind Naminé, gazing at her art, distracted. "Most of the munny earned here goes toward the rent upstairs." He points upwards. "Half spending, half rent."

"_You're going to get them all killed if you live here."_ Olette's face flashes into her mind, a sob rising in the back of her throat. She bites her cheeks hard – she can't do this, not just yet. But she looks at Riku. She needs a job and a place a crash, and he's willing to provide both.

"Yeah, that's great." She smiles.

He shakes his head, putting his hands on Riku's shoulders. _"She just signed your death sentence,"_ he whispers into Riku's ear, but only Kairi can hear him. Guilt floods her veins. He's just another person who will go down for her cause. She closes her eyes tiredly.

Riku just smiles, unaware of him at all. "Well, welcome to the family."

_x_ – _x _– _x_

It's Naminé who leads her up the spiral staircase to the apartment. It's small. The white walls are filled with framed paintings, which Kairi learns are done by the petite blonde, just like the ones downstairs. There are two rooms. Naminé and Riku share one, and Kairi gets the other, with a small bathroom and a living room leading directly into the kitchen.

"But this is my favorite spot in the whole apartment," Naminé had told her while she led Kairi onto the balcony. The rain has settled, and the city now sleeps soundlessly. Kairi can see the ocean right from her window and every building for miles. It's a beautiful view. "It's the only reason I bought it at first.," she admits, and Kairi nods, knowing exactly why. Despite the chill, Kairi could stay out here all day. They both yawn, nodding off a bit.

"Your room is on the left." Naminé begins to walk back inside, and Kairi follows quickly. "If you need anything, just let me or Riku know." She smiles sweetly, tugging at the hem of her dress.

"_Fancy digs,"_ he calls out to her, hands on the rail of the balcony. _"Much better than the last place we crashed. Man, he really trashed that place."_ Kairi closes her eyes, remembering the flames that had flickered around her. She looks down to glance at her arm – while hidden underneath her sleeve, nobody can see the burn mark. She flinches as he puts his hand on it, cool fingers trailing her skin. She moves her arm, and it goes through him. Ignoring the pity in his eyes, she makes her way to her room. She closes the door and throws her bag down, crawling onto the mattress and lying down. There, she lets herself start to cry as she curls up in the bed alone, hiding her face in the pillow.

A hand touches her hair, trailing through it. "Stop it, Roxas."

She sniffles, pushing his hand away, but instead of going through it as it should have, his hand remains very much solid, and as she lifts her head slightly she makes out the same spiky hair. He's alive? She stares at him. How is that even possible? He's been dead for two months – two long months he's been by her side, dead to the world.

"_That isn't me,"_ Roxas informs her, but she's already screaming.

The boy she had mistaken for Roxas, a boy with piercing, blue eyes and a head of messy, brown locks, lurches up with a start and promptly flips off the side of the bed. As Kairi chokes on her breath and drags the bed sheets protectively around her frame, the blond boy crawls curiously across the mattress, cocking his head as he hovers over the edge. She can see the floorboards and crudely-made bedside table shimmering through him, and she chokes again into the blanket, sniffling in fright.

"What…what the hell was…?"

"_Jesus, Kai, did you kill him, too?" _the blond drawls blandly.

"That's not funny!" she shouts indignantly, tears sparking in her eyes once more.

Suddenly, a head of tousled hair pops up from the ground, and Roxas hovers several feet into the air, his arms crossed and his head cocked curiously to the side. "I-I…I didn't mean to be funny," he remarks sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't know there was gonna be a renter today. Sometimes Riku lets me stay, so I just crashed? I'm really sor—"

"Who the _hell _is dying in my coffee shop!" comes a shout from outside, and Kairi tumbles from the bed, striking her shoulder against the floor. Roxas snorts smugly as she winces, but the brown-haired boy jumps to his feet in alarm, hurrying over to aid her. Alarmed, she flinches and scurries back several feet, and the blue-eyed male hesitates, awkward smile on his lips.

"_Way to make friends, Kairi."_

"I'm serious! _What's_ going on?!"

The boy hesitates, looking from her to the door and then back to her again. Then, as he ruffles his hair with his fingers nervously, he shoots her a reassuring smile before trudging toward the door, leaving Kairi dumbfounded on the floorboards. Roxas, hovering in the air, hums to himself pleasantly and floats down beside her. With wary eyes she turns to face him.

"_He looks like me, doesn't he?"_

Mutely, Kairi nods, following his gaze to stare at the brown-haired boy, who is rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand, his left buried within the folds of his pocket. He seems so at ease. He looks so peaceful. She envies him for that.

"_Does that freak you out?"_

She narrows her eyes. "Shut up, Roxas."

"_Yeah. Sure. I'll just be as silent as the fucking grave you put me in. There. Feel better?"_

She feels a tear slide suddenly down her cheek. "That's not fair."

"_Don't tell me what's fair," _he hisses into her ear, leaning close, and she shivers. _"Don't you dare fucking tell me what's _fair_." _Angrily, he rises into the air, and in a wisp of smoke he's gone.

She's too startled by the door opening to feel either relief or remorse. On the other side of the threshold, Riku's expression is dark, and as she remains crouched on the floor in her protective cover of blankets she watches the fury on the silver-haired teen's face fade into incredulity. The brown-haired boy bashfully raises his right hand in a wave, his head tilting to the side and his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. Roxas never smiles like that. His blue eyes are never filled with such light, even when so far away. There is only a deep shadow of mourning in those shining, blue orbs, and he's only ever laughing when he's mocking her suffering.

"So, I was in town, and I thought, hey, why not stop by and see my good friend, Riku?"

"You got fired again, didn't you?"

"Fired, Riku? That's such a harsh term. I was just—"

"_Fired_," the older male remarks flatly.

The brown-haired boy crosses his arms and pouts, and another shock runs down Kairi's spine. The similarities are uncanny in certain lights. "Shut up."

Groaning, Riku leans against the doorframe and presses his fingertips against his nose. "Just work here, you dumbass. The way you disgustingly ooze sunshine and puppy dogs is actually useful for waiting on customers."

"I ooze…sunshine and pu—"

"I know what I said, shut up." Kairi notes that Riku's cheeks are tinged pink in embarrassment. "So just work here. We can find room for you." He peers over Sora's shoulder, and she suddenly realizes that both had forgotten about her. She arches a delicate brow in response, and Riku smirks slightly. "I see you've been introduced to our _other _new employee."

Sora turns to stare at her, his expression suddenly elated as he appraises her with bright, blue eyes. Tugging her blanket closer, she glowers at him, feeling small beneath the covers and far too vulnerable. As Riku leans his forearm against the doorframe and blandly grazes his forehead against the sleeve, Sora's smile slips from his face, and he sheepishly turns his eyes away, an embarrassed smile wavering on his lips.

"Well, if I'm gonna work here, Riku…" Sora begins. His silver-haired friend smirks, aquamarine gaze shooting for Kairi and pinning her to the spot. Scowling, she looks into her lap. "…I'm gonna need a room."

"Fresh out," he states simply. "Stay here."

"What?!" she shrieks indignantly.

"Riku, seriously, isn't that unrea—"

"You want the job? You follow the rules. Now stop bitching, stop making loud noises, and get along, or you're not getting paid this week." Patting Sora once on the shoulder, he grins. "Good to see you again, pal."

Sora's arms hang limply at his sides as Riku turns on his heel and strolls down the hall. Growling softly under her breath, Kairi wills with every fiber of her being to have Roxas haunt that pompous ass after herself, but as seconds pass and she doesn't feel any less relieved, she sighs and struggles to her feet. Sora, closing the door wearily, runs his fingers through her hair as he turns around, and he hesitates to see her pulling pillows off the bed and throwing them on the floor.

"Um, what exactly—?"

"I'm not sleeping with you," she snaps coldly, throwing another throw pillow onto the wooden boards. "You take the bed, I don't care. Just stay away from me."

Sighing softly, he lifts his eyes to the ceiling and shakes his head, hand slipping to cradle his neck gently. After she unravels the blanket from her shoulders and drapes it across the floor, she kneels down and winces at how hard the ground feels, telling herself to stop being a baby and learn to get comfortable. Running from a homicidal maniac doesn't allow for luxuries. She should be happy that there a roof over her head and warmth away from the rain has been offered to her.

Sinking her cheek into the pillow, she lets her gaze flick up in time to catch sight of Sora hovering over her. Scowling, she flips over and curls her hand under her chin, closing her eyes futilely and willing him away into wisps of smoke.

But such childish games don't even work on Roxas, so they obviously don't work on him.

Crouching down, he touches her shoulder softly. "Unless you secretly want to sleep with me, Miss…" he murmurs soothingly, but her body tenses up and her breath comes short. She remembers a different kind of whispering in her ear – a breathy hiss, flashing eyes, an overshadowed sneer, all surrounded by crackling flames. "…I suggest you take the bed."

Without needing to be told twice, she leaps up, sliding out from under his touch and keeping a wide berth of distance between the two. Her heart is racing a mile a minute, and the burn on her arm sears in pain as the memory flashes white hot in her mind. Biting sharply down on her lip, she ducks her head down and clenches her fists, refusing to let him see her cry.

"Hey, are you—?"

"Good _night_," she snaps, traveling in a wide arc around him toward the bed. Once on the other side, she flops limply down onto the mattress, burying her face immediately into the covers and curling protectively into herself. She hears him sigh on the floor and roll onto his side, the thin cover of bed sheets rustling beneath his legs. She almost turns over to glance at him, to see if he's okay, but then she clamps down on the mattress cover with her fingers and keeps herself in one place. As silence settles over the room, she closes her eyes, feeling the tears sliding from the corners and dribbling down to her chin.

Eventually, she cries herself to sleep.

-- - --

Kairi doesn't dream anymore. She just remembers.

She's standing at the casket, arms crossed as she stares down at a boy she doesn't know. _'Roxas!_' she remembers Olette screaming and screaming and _screaming_. She's sobbing in the pew, beside Hayner and Pence – she has a broken arm. Yuffie leans toward the back. Nobody can see it, but under her pretty black dress there is a sea of bruises. Selphie isn't there. She had bashed her head against the dashboard and was in no condition to be anywhere out of the hospital. Kairi is the only one to get out scott-free.

"You killed him, you know." The voice cuts through her guilt, through her mourning for the boy she doesn't know. She looks to her side, where a tall man she hadn't noticed stands. He has emerald green eyes with small triangle tattoos under them, a spiky crimson mane, and if looks could kill, Kairi would be six feet under the ground twelve times over. "You fucking _murdered_ him." He hisses the last few words so quickly that they run together.

"I didn't mean to." Honestly, if she could have it any other way, she would wish that she was the one in that casket, not him. She wants him to be happy and alive – if just motorcycle-less. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" He laughs at her, such a bitter, hollow laugh. "What's that supposed to make me do? _Pity _you?" He steps over to her, so close that she can feel his breath on the very top of her forehead. "I'm going to make you regret that you weren't just another abortion statistic." He pauses as a couple Kairi doesn't recognize comes up to say goodbye. They both wear black. The man is tall and has blond spikes much like Roxas'. The woman has a long braid of brown hair and is crying into the man's chest, while he strokes her head. Kairi watches the redhead's expression change from pure hatred to sheer sadness as he watches this couple.

The minute they leave, his eyes are back on her, narrowed and callous. She feels like the wicked witch who stole the tin man's heart. "I'm going to kill you," he says simply, venom shooting from his mouth with every syllable. Her eyes open wide with shock. "You won't know when or where, but I'm going get you." He shoves her away from the casket, with enough force to make her stumble away from it. He leans into the casket and kisses the cold, dead lips of the man he loves and lost. Kairi can't look away or even move.

"_Axel…_" calls out a voice filled with pain and remorse. Kairi turns around, looking for the voice's ownder, but she can find nobody by the casket. It's just she and Axel.

She takes off like a bullet.

She makes her way home, heels off. She had taken to walking everywhere, since the accident. When she arrives, she finds Olette and Yuffie sitting on her steps. Yuffie is on the stoop, knees tucked into her chest, arms on top of them. Olette sits on the stairs. They're both quiet, their once happy chatter replaced with remorse. It radiates off them like heat.

"Hey," Yuffie calls when she sees her, causing Olette to look up. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying. "Can we crash here tonight?" Kairi blinks at both of her friends and wonders if that's how she looks to everyone else – sad and lost. They don't want to be alone, either.

Kairi gets out her keys.

"And we can see Selphie in the morning," Olette tells them, sniffling. Kairi just smiles and nods, watching Yuffie jump off the stoop, cautious but steady. It's true, what they say – misery loves company.

She wraps her arms around Olette, with Yuffie following in suit. "We'll be okay," she says.

She doesn't know how wrong she is.

The news is still blaring his death – she's reminded about it constantly. She has even added him into her daily schedule: school, work, then visit Roxas' grave. Soon, she forgets all about Axel's threat. That is, until she comes home one night from the grave to find her door standing wide open.

Something tells her not to go in, but she does anyways. Maybe Yuffie has come over in her rage and forgot to close the door, she reasons. It's not like she hadn't done it before. But as Kairi walks through her apartment, she gets an eerie feeling. Long fingers tenderly wrapped themselves around her arm, and, next thing she knows, she's flying into the wall. Her head collides with it, causing her to shriek in pain. He pulls her up by her hair, breathing in her ear, and she shivers as he touched her skin, squeezing her shoulder hard. "Did you miss me, _Princess_?"

"_That looks painful_." It's the same voice that had called out to Axel at the funeral. Kairi screams, and he slams her head into the wall. Something cracks, and blood begins to run down her face. She cries out in pain, tears and blood coursing down her cheeks. But the voice, whoever he is, makes no effort to help.

"Now be a good, little princess," Axel whispers into her ear. Between her pleading of pleases and don'ts he yanks her up. "And maybe, if you're good, it'll be quick and painless." His emerald eyes are wild, fighting to get out of their sockets. "But, then again, I feel like destroying something beautiful today." She snivels. She's going to die. Someone is going to waltz in and find her corpse on the floor, all bloody and massacred.

"Kairi?" Olette's voice calls out, sounding worried. Axel freezes, staring at Kairi and pulling her against the wall. "Kairi, are you home?" She walks in, and Kairi closes her eyes. _Just get out. Just get the hell out._ Axel pulls on hair, hard. She hisses in pain, kicking the wall. Olette freezes in theliving room, looking for Kairi.

"Send her away. Send her away or I'll kill her," he whispers harshly into her ear.

"_Olette, get away._" Kairi blinks, and then she sees him. It's Roxas, pushing Olette by her shoulders. But she doesn't move. She walks right through him, despite what he says. Kairi blinks again, several times. She must be dreaming. He's dead. She'd killed him. He's _dead_.

Yet here he is, clear as day.

_'Here's your boyfriend,' _she tells him with her eyes, but he doesn't listen. He just won't listen.

"Kairi?" she calls out again.

"_Don't get her involved, Kairi_," he tells her, floating over to where they stand. She doesn't move when he looks her in the eyes.

"Princess, _now_," Axel warns her.

"_Olette_!" she yells, high-pitched. "I'll be there in a second! I'm just getting changed." Axel watches her carefully. She takes a sharp intake of air, and he loosens his grip on her hair just an inch.

"Make it fast." He lets her go, pulling something black and metallic out of his pocket. "And don't be stupid." She nods, walking over to Olette slowly and cautiously.

"Are you okay?" Olette asks, looking at her forehead. She gasps, and Kairi hears a click. "You're bleeding." She goes to touch Kairi's forehead, but Kairi takes a step back.

"I'm fine. Just fine." Olette's eyes narrow at the obvious lie. "So I was thinking of _helping_ Selphie out today."

"_Are you fucking serious?!_" Roxas screams, appearing in front of her, and she's momentarily startled by those furious blue eyes. But then, remembering her situation, she hurriedly waves him away, her eyes grave. Another click. Kairi is going to have to work faster. The door is right there. All she has to do is run. He wants to kill her, right? He won't hurt Olette, right? Of course not. That'd be asinine. Olette had been Roxas's friend.

"When I say run, run," she whispers hard. She's not quiet, enough. Axel sighs loudly, and Olette takes a step back, hearing him.

"Princess," he growls, coming out into the open. "I told you: nothing stupid." He shakes his head, tsking at her. "You just signed her death sentence."

"Kairi?" Olette looks at her, and she knows that look – Olette's scared. Kairi gulps, keeping her eyes on the gun. She grabs Olette's hand, fingers entwining with her best friend's. They can make it through this. They'll be all right.

"_You're a fucking _dumbass_!_" Roxas roars at her.

"Run!" she screams. They both take off, and the shot rings through the house. For a second everything is quiet. Then Olette screams out in pain, their fingers, before so tightly entwined, separated, and Olette drops in the doorway. Another shot rings out, and Kairi jumps over the steps, running as fast as she can, not looking back.

"Kairi!" Olette screams after her, and she turns her head, almost stopping to turn back, but she sees Axel first. She rushes onward, her legs pumping hard, muscles that she hasn't used since high school aching.

"You can run, DiCasco, but you can't hide!" he bellows after her.

Another shot rings through the dark.

_x_ – _x _– _x_

Kairi awakens with a jolt, feeling sick and feverish. Her entire body is shaking, and she hears the echo of sobbing in her ears. Memories flash across her mind, and choking on her breath she pulls her knees close, wrapping her arms around her shin. The room is not dark, but it's far too quiet, and she's afraid beneath her thin veil of covers.

She struggles with the disorientation that sleep has bestowed upon her, rubbing her fist into her eye tiredly while she continues to shiver beneath the sheets. As she becomes more and more aware of her surroundings, she realizes that the sobbing isn't just a faint memory whispering its sorrow in her head. Instead, it belongs to a familiar voice, one that has haunted her now for so many weeks, one that will stay with her until her dying day – which she sorely hopes isn't soon. Tentatively, she peeks up from her covers, and when she glances to her left she sees Roxas with his back wedged into the corner of the room, his knees drawn close to his chest. As she swings her feet onto the floor, she quietly watches him moan though his tears, his cries dwindling into high-pitched whines as his eyes remain squeezed shut and his ghostly hand clutches at a pendant around his neck, the other digging fingers into his scalp.

"_Axel…"_ he pleas hoarsely, and Kairi's heart lurches, both in fear at such a wretched name and in remorse. _"I never…I never got to say…"_

"Roxas…_please_ don't cry."

Startled, he jerks his chin up, sluggish tears dripping from his lashes and sliding down his cheeks. His lips part as garbled syllables stumble forth from his throat, and then he catches himself, catches how he almost opens up to her, and his wide, clear eyes frost over. The corner of his mouth twitching into a grimace, he squeezes the spokes of his pendant so tightly she thinks he'll bleed, only to remember that spirits don't have life. They don't have hearts.

So how…how is he in so much pain?

"_Sometimes, I wish he'd find you," _he snarls, the corners of his lips curling into a dark and hollow smirk. A shock races down her spine as she catches how lifeless his eyes look, and self-consciously she draws her over-shirt closer to her chest, her fists shaking over her heart. _"I look at you, and I wish you'd die."_

"I don't know what you _want _from me!" she snaps, but the tremor in her voice betrays her fear. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, Roxas, I really am. More than you could _possibly _imagine!" Her voice cracks, and her defiant expression crumbles. "But I can't change what has already—"

"_I want my life back."_

Her expression contorts into one of pain, and she tilts her head beseechingly, laying out her palms in supplication as she leans forward. He shifts slightly back, disgusted by her. "Roxas…" she breathes, her eyes shining. "You know I can't—"

"_I hate you," _he growls, interrupting her. _"And I will _never _forgive you."_

"But I don't expect you to—!"

"_You don't fucking get it, do you?" _His voice is stormy, quiet, his eyes flashing as his hand clasping the pendant shakes with rage._ "I'll never be able to touch him again. He'll never hear my voice. Dammit, _why _did it have to be you who could see me? I hate you. I fucking HATE YOU."_

She flinches, a stray tear slipping from her lashes onto her lap. She watches the blond send trembling fingers through his hair, raking his scalp and entangling his hands in locks of faded gold. His body looks gray in the morning light, and she can see the rundown walls shimmering behind him, undulating with every arch and twist of his body.

Pressing her clasped fingers against her lips, she closes her eyes. "If I stopped running…would that make you feel better?" She can feel bile build up in her stomach. Flashes of sickening fear hurt her eyes, her head throbs, and her vision swims as she stares meaningfully at him through strewn and messy bangs, but she won't betray her terror. She won't let him know how quickly her heart kicks up its frantic pacing the moment she thinks about Axel laying a single hand on her. "If I let him k…" She chokes, then swallows hard. "…k-kill me."

Shock openly flits across his face, and his grip on his pendant grows slack as he gazes at her with wide eyes. The orbs are a frosty blue, untouched by death – they glow around the shadows of his form, never failing to captivate her. She watches his brow furrow, watches his gaze darken as he seriously contemplates her offer. His hand clenches and unclenches, and she feels the blood pulse in her veins. She can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

He finally drifts silently to his feet, his head tilted away from her but his peripheral vision scouring her face. His body shudders with the force of his intake, and then he presses a hand tiredly to his forehead. His shoulders go slack, and he looks so exhausted and pitiful in the morning light that she wishes that she can throw her arms around him; and then the full weight of her actions hit her, and she wants more than anything to be sick.

She can still hear the way the motorcycle crunched beneath her car and see the way his neck snapped in her mind.

"_Don't be stupid," _he whispers softly, turning his head away from her in an attempt to hide his sadness. _"He's not a killer."_

"Right. Sure. He's a fucking angel," she snaps bitterly before thinking.

Roxas whirls on her, and she sucks in a strangled breath. _"He's _not_," _the boy snarls, his eyes furious, _"a _killer_."_

Biting her lip, she looks away, uncomfortable under the magnitude of his glare. "I need to get dressed," she finally announces, feeling the need to break the silence that had settled over the two.

"_Then do it. I won't stop you."_

She sighs, threading fingers through long, red strands of hair as she rises to her feet. She has been growing it out in the months that she has been on the lam, in a feeble attempt to disguise herself from Axel's leering eyes; but her guises never work. He always finds her. It's inevitable.

"I kind of need privacy?" she remarks with an arched eyebrow, placing her hands on her hips.

Her remark earns her a withering glance as Roxas links his hands behind his head, his head cocked as he watches her from the corner of his eye. _"As if I'd like anything you have to offer," _he drawls smartly, and she purses her lips at him. _"You're really not that attractive."_

She glowers at him. "Cute," she says, before turning on her heel in a huff of breath and marching over to her backpack, which she'd kicked to the corner last night. Some time soon, when she starts making money, she'll go shopping and buy herself new attire. She might even dye her hair this time. Red hair was just too distinguishable.

The one and only time she had attempted to do so, however, Roxas had gone on a rampage. In his first display of inhuman power, he had short-circuited the electricity in the salon, rattled the bottles of shampoo and conditioner, and cracked one of the mirrors. A frightened panic arose in the chaos, and Kairi had had to slip out of doors, pulling her hood tightly over her head and refusing to look back. He had never explained himself, but she wonders still if the similarity of hair color between Axel and her has something to do with it.

Roxas tends to grasp any means of connection to the redheaded psychopath that he can, trying to console the ache in his hollow chest that never seems to abate.

"White tank-top with the purple sweater or pink t-shirt with the white hearts?" she muses aloud, sending him a curious glance.

"_Dress yourself."_

"If you're going to watch, I'll need your advice," she remarks sarcastically.

"_I'm not watching." _She smiles as she watches him glower stubbornly at the wall, his back facing her and his arms crossed in a closed-off position. _"Don't flatter yourself."_

She shrugs and turns away. "I'll go with the hearts."

"_How special."_

"No looking, though, okay?" she calls, crouching down by her beige-colored back and digging through the few possessions she had left for her jeans and pink flip-flops. In the midst of her search, she throws aside a hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and hair tie, which collect in a haphazard pile by her feet. "You don't get special privileges because you're see-through."

"_I'll try to contain my disappointment."_

Smiling to herself, she draws herself to her full height and grabs the tail end of her night shirt, pulling the article of clothing over her head and then depositing it carelessly to the floor. It puddles around her feet as she absent-mindedly musses her hair, shivering in the cold, and then she bends over and retrieves her bra. Sighing, she tilts her head back as she slips it over her arms and fiddles with the clasp, blowing a tuft of hair from her eyes as she admires the pockmarks in the ceiling.

"This place isn't so bad," she remarks conversationally, tilting her head toward Roxas to make sure he isn't looking. He continues to glower steadfastly at the wall, his fingers tapping a soundless rhythm on his arm, and she nods to herself, flicking her gaze back to the ceiling. "I mean, it's cold, but it's also pretty cozy."

"_Don't get attached."_

She rolls her eyes. "I'm not _going _to. Jesus. I just need a few days of work, rest, and food, and then we can move on, okay?"

Roxas sighs. _"You can't keep doing this. Axel's not as sloppy as he was before. And you're not the kind of person who can survive on her own. You need people."_

She whirls around and points at him accusingly. "I can do just fine on my own!" she retorts.

The blond lets his head fall back. _"Whatever."_

Grinding her teeth together, she whirls back around, stiffly kicking off her sweatpants and snatching her jeans of the wood. In seconds flat she has drawn the denim over her feet, shins, and thighs, and now she stands viciously fiddling with the button, her hair falling into her face. "God, you make me so mad…"

"_Feeling's mutual."_

"Oh, cut the crap," she mutters under her breath, bending over at the waist and sweeping her shirt off the floor. The decorated tee flaps and ripples in the makeshift wind as she viciously beats out the wrinkles, and then she smoothes her hand over the cloth as she holds it against her chest, her anger seething just under the surface. "If you're so sick of me, then why don't you just leave?"

"_Because you'd die without me."_

She stills, blinking at the floorboards as she runs her fingers slowly over the shirt again, her fingers finally bunching up a handful of the fabric.

"_Ironic, right? The guy you killed is the only one who can save you from the guy who wants you dead. And _you're _my only link _to _him." _Roxas laughs humorlessly, and Kairi feels her shoulders sag in guilt. _"Life's just hilarious like that."_

"I'm fine on my own," she repeats softly, only this time her statement is an empty one.

"_Of course you are," _Roxas responds, nothing but disbelief in his tone.

Silence weighs in between the two, as Kairi absently smoothes her hand over her shirt and Roxas rakes his eyes across the cracks in the wall. Shivering in the quiet, she slips her left arm more comfortably across her stomach, hugging herself for several passing moments as she envisions hollow lights and the sight of a motorcycle attempting to swerve past her speeding car. She squeezes her eyes tightly shut, and she hears the crash ring in her mind, echoing like bells in the deepest segments of her brain.

"_Don't you have work to get to?" _her transparent companion finally pipes up, and she blinks in a slow, hazy fashion, shaking her head from side to side. _"Idiot."_

Brows knitting in aggravation, she tosses him a glare. "Keep your shirt on, would you? I'm going."

"_Says the girl standing half-naked in her room."_

She stiffens. "You peeked!"

"_Well if you didn't take a fucking millennium to dress, I wouldn't have—"_

"I'm a girl!" she snaps in outrage. "It's in my DNA!"

"_Just hurry _up_."_

"You are _so_…" Groaning in aggravation, she slaps the shirt against her legs again, ridding the fabric of final wrinkles. "Fine. Whatever. Just don't do it again."

"_Or what? You'll kill me? You already did that once before."_

She grimaces and balls the shirt in her hands in frustration. "Roxas, just shut up."

Equally frustrated, he remarks, _"Whatever. I'll be waiting downstairs when you actually decide to dress yourself," _and as she turns around she watches with a sigh as he phases through the floor. Pressing her hand wearily against her forehead, she closes her eyes, her shirt hanging limply in her grasp.

"What a nightmare," she mutters under her breath, pressing her fingers against her closed lids and feeling the beginning of a headache throb at the back of her skull. "I'm ready to wake up," she calls aloud, addressing the ceiling. "Anytime."

"Selphie?" She hears the telltale creak of floorboards outside her room, and her brow furrows in confusion. Whose voice was that, and why was he looking for her best friend? "Are you up yet?"

She listens in interest, half-turned toward the door and head cocked to the side. He sounds warm. Comforting. Far more reassuring than Roxas's cold, soft voice and Axel's sadistic, purring undertones. Goosebumps prickle along her skin, and absently she lowers her head to rub her arms.

The footsteps shift from foot to foot, and then a sigh sounds from outside. Fiddling with her shirt, she waits several more seconds for the stranger to speak. He doesn't, and finally Kairi shrugs, trailing her hands along the inner lining of her tee, bowing her chin as she prepares to slip the fabric over her body. She crooks her arms, slipping her arms through, when suddenly the doorknob twists and her door swings gently open. Jumping, she foolishly whirls to face her intruder, and her mouth flies open in shock to see two very blue, very wide eyes locked with her own.

She can't breathe and he can't move as the door sways on its hinges and her shirt puddles around her feet.

Belatedly, she shrieks and wraps her arms around her chest, and he covers his eyes, stuttering and stumbling out of the doorway. "I-I'm so sorry. S-so so—I didn't mean it, honest! Riku mentioned that you needed to wake up and I heard voices and I thought—Oh, God, I'm sorry!"

Her face is pulsing with heat. "Well I'm _up _now!" she snaps angrily. "So get the fuck out."

Sora peeks through his hands at her awkwardly before he stiffens, his face heating, and whirls immediately around. His shoulders are straight and his arms are rigid at his sides as he reports like a diligent sentry, "R-Riku wants me to sh-show you around."

"Does that include watching me dress?" she remarks coldly.

He turns his head slightly in question, catching a glimpse of her expression from the corner of his eye, before he blushes again and turns straight. "N-no." He clears his throat. "Uh, no. But I thought you'd like me to wait—"

"No. I don't."

His shoulders sag slightly. "Are you sure? I don't mi—"

"I can find the _fucking _stairs. Now get _out_."

Sora hesitates, planting his hand at the back of his neck and rubbing his palm back and forth against the skin in thought. She fumes silently as he refuses to budge, getting ready to reach down and grab her hairbrush to throw at him if he saw much shifts an inch in her direction. Her fingers twitch at her side in agitation, and her skin prickles in the silence.

"I'll, uh, meet you downstairs then," he says finally, breaking through the tension, and she blinks at the softness of his words and the lack of anger in his tone. Without so much as glancing back, he walks straight out of the doorway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his ears burning as he bows his head. Running her fingernails lightly along her arm, she purses her lips in thought, unable to understand him. She has never met a person so gentle and patient in her entire life. He confuses her. Sighing and shaking her head, she tugs the shirt fully over her torso, stoops down to grab her toiletries, and marches, still fuming, off to the bathroom.

-- - --

Sora is spinning idly on a bar still, hands planted on the seat's edges, when she descends the final step and walks into the café. She avoids his eyes as she tilts her head and winds an elastic band three times around her locks, aware of Roxas hovering curiously around the brown-haired youth and cocking his head in thought.

"_What did you do to him?_" the blond asks innocently.

She shoots him a glare, but at the same time Sora glances up, and his face immediately flushes in embarrassment as their gazes lock. Whirling around in an instant, he stares down at the polished counter, his ears tinged with color as he directs an awkward smile toward his hands.

"_Seriously. What did you do?_" Roxas hovers over to her persistently, prodding her arm with a transparent, intangible hand. She rolls her eyes in frustration. "_Give him a good tongue lashing? He looks like he just got his hand caught in the cookie jar._"

"He walked in on me while I was changing," she grumbles, giving her ponytail a tug.

Roxas blinks slowly, and then, his face crinkling up, he gives a short bark of laughter. Hissing out a frustrated breath, she waves her hand through him, as if to dispel his image like smoke, and strides over to where Sora is quietly sitting. The bell on the door rings, and Kairi freezes slowly, she spots a trio a tall girl with long black hair, a man with spiky black hair – and then red, all she can see is red. She ducks down, ignoring Sora's stare, she takes a deep breath, and she digs her nails into her thighs anything to keep her from hyperventilating.

"Can we get some service here?" she hears one of the men say. His order is followed by a thud. "Christ, Tifa! That hurt!" he whines.

"You better kiss it and make it all better, or Reno might leave you for someone a little less lethal," teases the other voice. Neither belongs to Axel, but she still can't move. All she sees is red. Red, red, red.

"Be nice. Riku owns this—"

"Dump," says the first voice.

"Dump," confirms the other.

"_Fine_…coffee shop." She continues to ignore the other two, walking over to the counter and leaning on it. Sora doesn't move, and Kairi glares at him. "Get _up_!" she mouths.

"_What the hell is wrong with you?!_" Roxas hisses into her ear, and she runs her hand right through him. It goes through him like smoke, but he doesn't disperse like last time. He continues to stare at her with hard, blue eyes. "_Get up_."

She shakes her head hard, memories shooting through her brain. He has to see the fear on her face, but he won't care. Dead people don't have hearts, especially for girls who killed them. He sighs, rubbing his temples. "_It's not him, trust me – I wouldn't be anywhere near you if he was_." He puts his hands on her shoulders, and she flinches, but she can't feel anything.

"Uh, welcome to, um, Hearts' Café. How can I help you?" Sora asks the group, hovering over her awkwardly. Roxas scowls as one of Sora's legs goes through and floats backwards. Kairi scoots further under the counter, making herself as little as possible as Sora stands over her. His eyes are still on her, but she doesn't look at him. She won't look at either of them.

Riku's right, though. Sora is a people person. He easily chitchats with the group, while she hide beneath him. Roxas mutters every few minutes about her stupid fears. When they leave, Sora moves and just stares down at Kairi, but what is she supposed to say? Instead of waiting for an answer, though, he holds out his hand to her as help. She stares at it for a moment, but still it remains, Sora's fingers beckoning for her to hurry up. She bites her lip.

"_Get the fuck up already_," Roxas tells her, crossing his arms. "_You can do it on your own_." But she ignores him, tenderly reaching out for Sora's hand. His skin is soft and warm compared to her own cold and clammy hands. Her fingers entwine with his as he lifts her up without effort, and Roxas groans as Sora smiles. She lets go of his hand at once, wondering what that one little gesture had done.

After that, Sora decides to teach the ropes, often flashing smile, little smiles, to which she returns none. She follows his instructions but refuses to interact with him. He deals with the customers, she deals with the coffee machines. This doesn't seem to phase him at all – in fact, it only persuades him to talk more.

Roxas hates this. Once, while Sora was grabbing something for her, Roxas took the liberty to poke his face, searching for the off button. They may look alike, but they're complete opposites – little nods and shakes of the head won't do it. Sora always waits patiently for her to respond to something he has asked or said, and she only shrugs. It seemed to put him out of first, but now he hardly notices. He's always watching her carefully, as if waiting for her to chip in. She never does.

By the end of the day, she is more worn out from listening to Sora that from the work itself. When Naminé comes down to ask Kairi if she wants to help make dinner while Riku and Sora close up, Kairi all but flies up the stairs, Roxas in tow. "What do you want me to do?" Naminé asks, and soon Kairi is cutting up mushrooms and other vegetables. She boils and drains, things she hasn't done in months. Sautées and adds herbs. She avoid the fire, which Naminé handles without question. For so long, Kairi has lived on the quick, portable things like ramen, so Chicken Alfredo is a task for her.

Roxas watches them both quietly. At first this pleases Kairi, but slowly it begins to irritate her. "Are you all right?" she asks him aloud.

"Fine!" Naminé calls from the kitchen.

"_I'm dead. What do you think?_" He watches as Naminé cooks. "_Axel used to use ramen noodles instead_." He nods toward Naminé as she mixes the madness all together. Kairi mentally cringes at the sound of his name, while Roxas stares longingly out the window and Naminé continues to cook, unaware of it all. Silence covers them like a blanket, until suddenly Naminé squeals. Kairi shoots up off the couch, and Roxas rolls his eyes at her. Riku had snuck up on the petite blonde, picking her by the waist and spinning her around.

"Riku, the Alfredo's going to burn!" she chides, but she kisses him all the same. Kairi gets up, moving to stir it, but Sora beats her to it. Riku nods his thanks, carrying Naminé into their room. The blonde is redfaced and laughing the whole way there. Kairi envies that. She can't remember the last person she could share that type of connection with.

"_There's always Sora_," Roxas sneers. Kairi glares at him, running her hand through him. He disappears, an eternal scowl on his face. And once more, Sora and Kairi are alone.

Kairi turned back to the couch, labeling it as her sanctuary. "Selphie?" Sora asks, his voice unsure. She pretends not to hear him, paying close attention to the news. Munny stocks are down. How interesting. "Selphie?" he calls again. Kairi flips the channel. Maleficent is running against Mickey for president? She doesn't stand a chance.

He taps her shoulder, and she finds that she can't immerse herself in things that she doesn't care about. "_What?_" She spits the word out.

"I know we got off on the wrong foot…" he begins, laughing as he says this. He had _better _not be thinking about this morning. Kairi glares him daggers, but he doesn't flinch.

"That's an understatement," she mumbles, and he smiles. Maybe it's because he has finally gotten three words out of her that aren't full of hate or point blank. She mentally scoffs at him.

"But I would like us to be friends, since we're going to be living together." He drums his fingers on the back of his neck, and shook her head, sighing. Why dpes he have to make this so hard?

"You don't want to be friends with me." She gets off the couch and begins to walk away from him, but can't escape him so easily. He follows right behind her as she turns off the burner and then makes her way toward the balcony.

"Why not?" he persuades. She is hit by a cold gust of air first as she steps out, but she embraces it. Sora hesitates, the chilly wind blowing strands of his chocolate brown hair, but he comes out after her. He just won't learn. She's trouble. If only he could hear Roxas. Then he'd see. He wouldn't want to be friends with her then. He wouldn't even want to be in the same room with her. The ugly truth has left her branded. She can only cover them up with alluring lies, ones that will hopefully keep her afloat – or maybe, if she's lucky, drown her.

"It's more trouble than it's worth." She bites back the truth, Roxas's words loud in her head: "_She just signed your death sentence_." No. No. Not if she can help it. She only needs to stay here for a few weeks, just enough time to get munny. Then she's off again.

"I doubt that." _'__Please,__'_ her eyes call to him. _'__I'm telling the truth_._'_ But she knows better. He'll only believe her lies. Anything remotely close to the truth is too impossible to fathom.

"You'd get hurt."

"Well, I won't know unless I try, right?" He holds out his hand, and she reluctantly shakes it. It's only three weeks, only three weeks. He can get attached all he wants. She did warn him, didn't she?

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she states, just for good measure. He pulls her into the apartment, smiling now that she has agreed to this twisted new friendship. Her body wants do nothing else but head for the hills, and she knows that her mind wouldn't object. But something, from that singular touch, ignites within her, something Kairi can't place. All she knows is that she doesn't like it. Not at all.

Sora grabs them two plates. "You know, Selphie, as your friend," he's really making her regret it early on, " I gotta say – I don't think you're as cruel-hearted as you want us to think." She smiles at this. He's such a silly person. How can he not think of her as cruel? "I've had my fair share of cold-hearted people, and you just don't fit the persona."

"Then what am I?" she challenges.

"I'm not sure." He hand her plate. "But I intend to find out."

He's different than the people she has encountered, but she isn't a mystery and he isn't Sherlock Homes. Kairi's a girl on the run, and Sora is just one of the many she'll leave behind.

They eat in relative silence.

"How long do you think they're going to be in there?" she asks. He slurps up a noodle and leans back, putting his hands behind his head thoughtfully. Leaning over the couch, his body stretching as far as it can without falling, he calls out, "I want a little girl!" Kairi's face flushes pink, and giggles escape her before she can bite them back. Riku and Naminé don't react, however, and Sora shrugs, leaning back to finish his dish. He folds his feet in, sitting Indian style, his plate resting in his lap. "They're probably asleep."

"More for us then," she replies, stabbing the chicken. He grins, and she can't help but wonder why. The smile fades quickly, though, like a flicker. His face is suddenly serious, and it made her look behind her, just in case some danger is coming. (It isn't).

"Selphie, what happened to your arm?"

She begins to choke on the Alfredo. She hadn't expected that – not from anyone. She just looks at him, at his face tinted slightly. When she remembers this morning, she groans. She thought about what alluring words to use to put his sincere worries to rest. "I got burned."

"Looks pretty bad," he comments, watching her. His face shows no emotions, but his eyes are filled with pity.

"It was," she replies.

Before she can stop it, she starts to remember that day. The fire. Axel. They mix together, reds meeting yellows, greens falling into oranges, his image into fire. That day had been horrible. And it replays in her mind, like a broken record.

Again and again and again.

_x_ – _x _– _x_

Whew. Finished and beta'd. Please review!


	3. Revenge of Chaos

axel _x _roxas, sora _x _kairi, awesome _x _win

Ahaha, I'm thoroughly enjoying this story, if I do say so myself. I get so excited writing psycho Axel, angsty Roxas, frazzled Kairi, and cute-as-a-button-and-completely-oblivious Sora. It's seriously a blast. Ana's plot is insane, too. I love writing for it.

Oh. Since I figure there will be confusion as soon as this starts, one, it's **Axel's P.O.V.** this chapter. And two, the **first two segments** are scenes **set in the past**. I know, I know, it's a pain in the ass, but it parallels the prologue situation that was in Kairi's P.O.V., and we just crammed it in here instead of making a second prologue. DON'T HATE. :D

Because it's badass. This whole chapter IS COMPLETELY BADASS. _And _epic. And my god, crazy Axel is so fucking crazy. You better enjoy this as much as I did writing it and spamming it. Oh, yes. I fail at that completely hard. But without further ado, here's the best thing that's happened since akuroku was invented. I am that sure of this awesome win, I really am.

**Disclaimer**: We no has awesome win tiemz of game, plz.

-- - --

It's two o'clock in the morning, and Axel is pissed, because Roxas has been gone all day. The boy had left early in the morning – he had even woken Axel up from his beauty sleep – with some lame excuse about visiting his cousin, Cloud, in Hollow Bastion, but he had promised that he would be back in the evening. Frustrated, Axel takes a swig of his beer and glares at the black television screen, feeling the darkness sink in around him as he waits out the passing minutes.

Axel shoots a glance toward the alarm clock perched on top of the television, and he glares at the time. Two hours and four minutes have already come and gone on his twenty-third birthday.

He doesn't normally care when Blondie breaks his promises, because that's always a rare occurrence and there's always some plausible reason behind it, but it's his _birthday_, dammit; and Roxas never misses a moment to get drunk with him and have celebratory sex on the kitchen table. Growling in aggravation, he sends his fingers scouring through his hair, the nails raking his scalp as he resists the urge to hop up from the cushions and stomp to the screen door yet again. He tries to keep from listening for the blond's rust heap of a car to come clunking down the driveway.

He furiously bunches the material of the cushion into his left hand, taking an angry swig of liquor with his right, and he sits in the darkness as he imagines the blond slinking into their shared little shack of a home. They'll probably fight; they always do. The lights will turn on and Axel will be revealed on the couch, scowling dangerously and pointing at the time in frustration; and Roxas will turn from sheepish, stuttering apologetic excuses, to defiant when he realizes with hurt that Axel has dared to suggest that the blond has been unfaithful. Passing a hand over his face tiredly, the redhead groans and wraps his fingers around the neck of the beer bottle until his knuckles turn white. He's worried. He would kill to protect that fact from anyone, but he _is _worried.

He just wants Roxas to come home. He doesn't care that the boy has lied. He doesn't care where the boy has been. He just wants to be shaken awake by a ridiculously excited blond, who finds it perfectly reasonable to rouse the redhead from his alcoholic stupor so they can count down the seconds until midnight together. He wants to attack Roxas with a pillow for being so stupid, only to wrap his arms around the blond's thin, lithe waist and drag him close, nibbling affectionately on his ear. He wants to trail his fingers through stiff, blond locks and fall asleep to the sound of Roxas's breathing.

Furious, he clutches the bottle tight and whirls it with all his strength at the wall. It shatters in an explosion of sound and color, glass shards glittering in the darkness and shadowed alcohol showering against the wooden floor. With a frustrated huff of breath he rises from the couch and turns away from the mess that Roxas will berate him for tomorrow, and he stomps off towards their room, slamming the door behind him and causing the picture of the blond and his three friends to fall to the carpet. With a growl he kicks the frame away from him and stalks over to the bureau, viciously dragging the top drawer open. With complete disregard he flings boxers and white undershirts across the room, until his fingers brush against an envelope and the paper crinkles loudly. Hesitating, he smooths a wrinkled pair of pure black boxers out of the way, and he delicately pulls forth a letter addressed to him in Roxas's hurried scrawl. Slamming the drawer shut, he sighs and trudges over to their bed, collapsing onto the mattress and tearing the envelope open as he flops back into the pillows. His eyes pick out key phrases swirling on the white paper.

'…_of all, you're an idiot for going through my drawer. Again. And a pervert.'_

Grunting with laughter, he runs a hand arrogantly through his hair, as if the blond himself is perched at the end of the mattress, his legs folded stubbornly and his arms crossed over his chest.

'…_knew you'd find this here, since you can't keep your stupid hands off my stuff…'_

"Such a flatterer, Blondie," he mutters with a grin, scanning ahead to avoid his boyfriend's written reprimands.

'…_your birthday tomorrow. I have a big surprise planned, so stop being a baby and pouting while I'm gone. Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. I love you, you idiot.'_

He's unable to suppress a smirk, no matter how angry he's been the entire evening. Exhaling heavily through his nose, he folds the letter neatly and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans. He doesn't need to read anymore. He doesn't care. Stretching out fully on the bed, he throws his arm across his forehead and waits for the blond to stumble in, exhausted with his journey, excited about the day. Axel might just take the boy to the beach he has been dying to see, too. That would be nice. A birthday on the beach.

The darkness weighs in around him, and he slowly finds that it's harder and harder for him to remain awake. He wrestles with consciousness for several minutes, perhaps half an hour, but the liquor and his exhaustion win over, and soon enough he's dreaming.

-- - --

The room is cold when he wakes up, and the bed sheets are bunched up by his knees. Groaning miserably at the ache throbbing at the back of his eyes, he flops over onto his stomach, letting out a heavy sigh as his hand brushes against his cheek. He wriggles his butt in an attempt to steal more comfortably under the blankets, but he only succeeds in kicking them off the bed, and with a muffled curse he buries his face fully into the pillow and lifts his arm off the mattress, tangling his fingers into matted strands of hair.

"…_Roxas_," he groans, sighing in frustration as his toes prod uselessly at the bed's edge, "would you get the damn blanket?"

Another ache jackknifes through his skull, and a bitter chill descends upon his body. Shivering, he moans in aggravation and painstakingly slides his weight onto his left shoulder, his eyes staying shut as his cheek nudges the cool cushion beneath his head.

"Rox_as_. I'm hung_ over_…" Lips vibrating as he forces out a breath, he rolls his eyes beneath their lids. He regrets it instantly as a sharp pain stabs his brain. "'s your fault, too."

Silence rings true throughout the bedroom as the cold persuades goosebumps to trail across his skin. Grunting indignantly, Axel at last opens his eyes, blinking sluggishly in the gray morning light, and for a while he can only stare vacantly at the wall across from him. His evergreen gaze slowly narrows to slits as he comprehends that he's alone, and then, limply laying his hands flat against the mattress and then pushing himself on shaky arms, he stares in confusion at the empty space beside him. In a tangle of limbs he crosses his legs and settles his wrists in his lap, and once more he cocks his head at the mattress, lifting his hand only once to scratch at his head.

"Jesus, Blondie," he finally breathes out with a sigh, letting his head loll back and then wincing when his brain throbs in defiance. "What the hell?"

Painstakingly he slides himself to the bed's edge, and when his feet touch the floorboards he cringes, planting his hands on his bare arms and fiercely rubbing the skin. The room is freezing, but when he looks around he sees no window open. He only makes out the splash of gold and pink on the horizon, and he swears under his breath when he comprehends that it is sinfully early in the morning.

Threading skinny fingers through his hair, he rises to his feet with a grunt, left arm falling to swing in a limp arc to and fro against his jeans. He can feel the way his hair has matted to his neck, and his shirt smells of smoke and sweat, but he doesn't care, instead scratching idly at his throat as he drags his feet across the wood. When he passes through the threshold he knocks his knuckles against the door frame, then pocketing both hands and hanging his head when he feels his fingertips brush against the letter.

"Roxas?" he shouts. His voice reverberates against the walls as he stalls in the middle of the family room, the brown and patched couch swimming into his sight, the crooked door leading out of the house haunting his peripheral vision. "You better be here! And you better not be hiding! I fucking hate surprises."

Retrieving his right hand to massage the bridge of his nose in aggravation, he shuffles away from the couch towards the kitchen, separated from the family room only by a linoleum-topped counter. His hip strikes a corner and he hisses out a string of garbled curses, kicking a stool out of his way as he heads towards the fridge propped against the wall at the counter's end. Grasping the handle immediately, he pulls the door open and leans down, retrieving a beer from the top shelf before slamming the door shut. He then twists the top off and tosses it into the sink, staring at it angrily as he leans against the linoleum surface.

"Fuck," he mutters bitterly, assessing by now that the younger blond had not returned the night before. He must have stayed the night at his cousin's, which pisses Axel off, because he hates Cloud with a passion. "The least ya could'a done was called," he continues to rage under his breath. "Then I could've traveled the four fucking hours up there and dragged your ass _back_."

He slams his left fist against the sink's edge to emphasize his anger, before muttering nonsensical threats to himself and crossing the room to the pantry guarding the back door. Shoving aside chairs with his foot, he finally reaches the cupboard and purposefully digs through it, raiding through Roxas's carefully-organized drawers and shelves before decidedly pilfering two slices of bread. Satisfied, he kicks each door shut with force, feeling triumphant with the rattles and shakes of jars, as well as how several packages teeter and drop to the floor before he seals the pantry shut. Beer in one hand, a slice of bread in the other, and the final piece between his teeth, he marches out of the kitchen, kicking the stool again for good measure, and as it clatters against the wood he heads towards the couch with purpose.

Sinking into the cushions with a scowl on his face, he sinks his teeth all the way through the bread. It falls to his lap as he chews, and while he takes a swig of his beer he lets the other slice drop, reaching instead for the remote sitting precariously on the couch's left arm. With one eye open as he leans his head back and downs the liquor, he calls the television screen to life, lowering his chin as the images stall and the sounds buzz. Shadows flit across the screen, and then he's staring dully at a car commercial, taking another swig of his beer as he extends his arm and tilts the remote, opting to channel surf.

"Crap," he mutters, swinging his legs onto the coffee table and crossing his ankles. Roxas would murder him if he knew about the mess Axel is currently making, but the redhead notes with bitterness that the blond is in Hollow Bastion and has no reason to worry about his furniture. "Bullshit," he growls, teeth clenching as he paces faster through the channels, wishing that instead of being wide awake he could pass out on the bed and not move for hours. "Re_tarded_…"

He reaches the news channel, and with aggravation he tosses the remote back onto the cushions, groaning as he presses his fingers against his temple. He would rather listen to reporters bitch about weather, politics, and festivities than sit through some godawful sitcom canceled after only two episodes. Taking another sip of beer, he swishes the liquid around in his mouth and slouches against the cushions, knocking his feet together as he glowers at the television screen. He's not really paying attention to the words as _Breaking News _pans across the bottom, and he wrinkles his nose as an anchorwoman with a whiny voice stands at the scene of an accident, her hair slightly drenched and her business suit crisp-looking in the weak morning sunshine.

Aggravated, Axel reaches for the remote at his side, unable to stand the whine of her voice.

"…_approximately three this morning, two vehicles collided on the main road just out side of Twilight Town. Kairi DiCasco, a fellow resident, was driving her friends…"_

Thumb poised over the button, he freezes. He knows that girl. He's heard that name before. She's some friend of a friend of Roxas's, whom the blond isn't too acquainted with but has spoken to once or twice. Suddenly interested, he lets the remote drop into his lap and watches as the girl's gaunt and wretched form focuses into view. She's sitting with her arms across her legs and her head buried within the folds of he sleeves, her fingers raking through her hair as beside her two friends sit, one cradling her arm gingerly, the other oddly familiar as she fists her hair forcefully and shakes with uncontrollable tears.

"…_eighteen-year-old Roxas Hikari, another resident of Twilight Town, was riding his motorcycle along the dark road…" _

There's an explosion of sound that fills the empty ringing in Axel's head, and belatedly he realizes that his beer bottle has slipped from his grasp. He's staring hard at the news on screen, and he's trying to will everything that he sees into oblivion: the red-haired girl sobbing into her hands; her ugly, yellow bug with its front end smashed and warped; a once beautiful black and red motorcycle, lying crumpled and wedged against the cliff, smashed beneath the car's front wheels. He fights against the feeling prickling in the back of his mind. He wants to purge the vague memory of Cloud owning that very same bike from his mind.

He wants more than anything to forget how Roxas had taken a peculiar interest in that exact motorcycle.

But the pieces have already all fallen into place.

"FUCK!" He's screaming, and he hardly realizes it as he leaps out of his seat. "FUUUCK! NO! GOD DAMMIT, NO!" Howling in rage, he throws himself to his knees in front of the television screen, digging his nails against the sides. "FUCKERS!" he hollers at the reporter still speaking faux-sympathetically into the microphone. "YOU FUCKERS!" he screams at the EMTs, who have wrapped up a body, that precious, sacred body, that has probably been cold and abandoned for hours and are now carrying it toward the ambulance. "DON'T TOUCH HIM!"

Slamming his hands wildly against the television, he watches as the images shake. His expression contorts when he watches the girl shake her head and decline comments, collapsing into sobs. He notices just how _sad _and _guilty _she looks, and he is overwhelmed with the insatiable desire to wrap his hands around the rotten whore's swan-like neck and snap it in two.

"…_made the sudden, narrow turn around this road when th—"_

"WHEN THAT BITCH TOOK _EVERYTHING_ AWAY FROM HIM!" he rages, acidic tears scouring his cheeks as he shakes his head. "BRING HIM BACK, YOU _FUCKERS_! SEND THAT WHORE TO HELL AND BRING HIM _BACK_!" His eyes narrow to slits as he continues to glower at her, feeling his lips slowly curl into a vicious snarl. His shoulders shake from the force of his anger, and finally he snaps, howling furiously as he leaps to his feet. "I'LL KILL YOU. I'LL FUCKING _KILL_ YOU."

Lashing out wildly, he whirls around and flips the coffee table on its side, snarling as it scatters magazines onto the ground and knocks against the couch. He grabs hold of couch cushions, throwing them everywhere in his blind rage. One hits the end table and strikes the lamp, which is yanked from its power socket and crashes to the floor, where it cracks against the wood. Another hits the wall and the pictures resting there. One even knocks the alarm clock off the television set – the time reads 6:37. His screams of agony fill the empty room, and he feels as though he's being torn apart from the inside out.

"ROXAS!" he howls, kicking the end table to the floor, listening to how it crashes onto the wood. "_ROXAS_!"

Choking against his sobs, he trips over his feet and claws at his face, nails sinking into his skin. His knees buckle, unable to support his weight any longer, and he slams his knees against the floorboards as he collapses, doubling at the waist as he screams into his hands.

Roxas was never coming back.

"…_devoted student, caring friend. He will be sorely missed…"_

-- - --

Axel leans against the magazine rack, cigarette ashes falling onto his map; he flicks them off with one long finger. The cashier has been glaring at him for half an hour, but he takes another long drag, ignoring her.

"You know, smoking kills," she states, looking at him with disapproval. For the first time, Axel really looks at her. She has short, choppy brown hair and a scar across her forehead. Jade eyes stare back at him – he can even see his reflection in their orbs, and he looks like shit. His hair is sticking up wildly, and he can really use a shave.

"So do car crashes," he replies coldly, and she freezes. He blinks, and suddenly everything clicks. Pushing off the wall, he goes over to the cashier, the register standing as the only thing that separates them. "You're one of them, aren't you?" Fear flickers in her eyes, but he doesn't flinch. He doesn't even move. He's used to it. People give him that look all the time. They think he's a monster.

If only they knew.

She glances down at the map he's holding, not daring to look him in the eyes. "You need to pay for that, you know."

He leans forward, ashes falling on her hands, and looks her in the face; she stares back, mesmerized. Suddenly, he slams the map down, breaking the spell, and she gasps in horror at the blood stains, the edges singed at the corners, and pieces of hair taped to the sides.

"It's mine," he growls, carefully pulling his wallet from his pocket. She just stares at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape. With one hand he opens the wallet, using the other to close her lips. "You'll catch flies."

He gently places a photograph on the table, and she looks down. It is an image of the boy they killed. She touches her scar, remembering.

Axel smiles fondly at the picture. It is one of Roxas and him two weeks before the accident. "It's the only thing I have left."

"I'm sorry," she says said automatically, and he just shakes his head with a chuckle. Switching from remorse to confusion in seconds, Axel smirks – he likes this girl. Maybe it's her open hatred for him from just one look. But there is something about her, and he can't help but laugh.

"No, sweetheart, you're not. But you will be if you don't help me find her." And that's how Selphie Tilmitt joins his cause – Axel _had _always been quite the sweet talker, after all. Or maybe it is the shiny metallic gun jammed into her spleen that relays the message. Whatever the reason, she follows him out into the night to his motorcycle parked directly outside the store. She shifts uncomfortably at the sight of it, and he thrusts the helmet at her, grinning. "Afraid of helmet hair?"

"It just reminds me too much of the crash." Remorse hits the last word, and Axel sighs as she touches her scar, her hand shaking.

"Are you going to spend forever pretending it didn't fucking happen?" He stares at her dully, and he watches her transformation.

"Are you going to spend forever trying to _kill_ her?" She shoves the helmet back into his arms. "It was an _accident_."

Suddenly, he doesn't like Selphie very much.

"There are no accidents, got it memorized?" He points the gun at her head. "I should fucking kill you."

"It's not going to bring him back!" she hisses, walking into it. He blinks, his arm shaking. What the hell is the matter with her? Is she insane? "It won't change anything! He'll still be dead."

"Shut the hell up, just shut the hell up!" She doesn't know what she's talking about. She's crazy – a monster. Just like Kairi, just like Olette. He blinks, heated tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"We're all living the nightmare." She breathes out, loudly and deeply, and puts her hand on his arm. He flinches. When was the last time anyone had touched him. "_Kairi_…" he hisses at the name. "…_Olette_. _Yuffie_. Me and you." She leans into the gun again, the metal pressing into her forehead. Another deep breath. "She used to visit him every day. We all did."

He knows. He'd had to wait until they left.

"I'd see you sometimes," she whispers.

It clicks. Her words dig in deeply. "Not another fucking word, or I'll blow your _fucking_ brains out!" He shoves the metallic butt against her forehead, and she lets go of his arm. For a moment, neither of them says anything. The silence is nearly overwhelming; deafening, even. Selphie takes another deep breath, and he glares at her, but she just opens her perfect mouth anyway.

"Would he really want you to be like this?"

He snaps. He fires the gun. And nothing happens. There is no noise, no gunshot, not even Selphie screaming in pain. There is nothing. No bullet to be shot. Selphie shakes her head, and there is pity in her eyes. Grinding his teeth together, he rears his arm back and strikes her across the cheek with his gun, hard. She is knocked over, and without thinking he turns the key and the engine sputters. The bike roars to life, and he speeds off, leaving Selphie and his helmet in the dust.

-- - --

He brings rain and wind into the rundown, motel bedroom, his teeth chattering in the silence as the door slams against its frame. Clunking in soaked boots and a weathered jacket towards the single table, he slams his map against the wooden surface and then fishes through his coat for his cigarette carton, his fingers shaking and his eyes bloodshot. He hasn't slept for a while. He's lost track of the hours that he's been awake, since they are far too many and have started to run together. With a long-suffering sigh he collapses into the room's one chair and swings his feet up onto the table, kicking off his boots and listening to them clunk hollowly on the floor.

Jittery fingers start to pick at the carton's top, slipping against the glossy surface, shaking too hard for him to get a firm hold under cardboard. Cursing, he throws the white box against the table and watches it bounce, and then he lurches forward and sends trembling hands through his hair. He's living off coffee and nicotine most of the time, and his body feels as though it's unraveling at the seams. Rocking back and forth, he feels the gun hidden within the folds of his jacket rub against his hip, and his heart lurches. Whether it's from fear or thrill, however, he's unable to figure out anymore.

He feels sick. He keeps picturing his gun against that Selphie girl's forehead. He hears the click echo in his mind. He feels the dead weight of that sleek, lethal weapon in his hand as his arm goes limp and his thought process stalls for a moment, before he strikes her across the face and gets the hell out of there. He knows that, had she been Kairi, he would have bothered to put bullets in his gun. Had she been that red-headed _whore_, she would have been bleeding on the convenient store's tiles, her face blown off, before she'd been given the chance to run.

He wouldn't have been sorry, either.

Outraged and desperately craving the reprieve of nicotine, he chokes a little bit on his spit and reaches again for the carton, clawing with fury at the cardboard until the top is shredded and his fingers have claimed a cigarette from the package. Forcing it between chapped, cold lips, he struggles to evoke a flame from his lighter, rolling his thumb against the striker and lifting his shaking hand to his mouth. The lighter trembles and the flame stalls, sputtering to life and fading to sparks before it can catch. His eyes narrow, venom brewing in his bloodshot, tired eyes, but finally heat curls around the cigarette, and smoke swirls towards the ceiling. Taking a long, much-needed drag, he lets the lighter drop and sinks against the chair's back, his shoulders shuddering and his hands smoothing the wrinkles from his jeans. In the silence he hears a crinkle, and his eyelids, which have slid closed, fly open. A grimace crosses his face as he drags the letter from his pocket, his other hand pulling his wallet free.

"…_almost twenty-three doesn't mean you can get wasted when I'm not there. I don't want you fucking puking all over my house. I don't care that you're hopeless without me. I'm not cleaning up after your messes…"_

He laughs softly, tears burning in his eyes. "I'm in a big mess this time, buddy," he whispers, smoothing his hands over the letter that has been stained, wrinkled, and folded with much wear. It shakes in his grasp, and he brings it with trembling arms to his face, crinkling it against his forehead and closing his eyes against its feel. The cigarette continues to burn, dropping ash into his lap, curling smoke around the paper. "I need you." His voice cracks in the silence, breaking off from his throat and withering in the air, until it then falls in his lap along with the ash. A stray tear falls and joins the mix.

Pressing shaking fingers against his forehead and prodding the pointer and middle into his skull, he takes a long drag and with his left hand lays the letter gentle against the tabletop. Arching against the chair's back, he withdraws his cigarette and lets the smoke swirl towards the ceiling, lifting the photograph to hover several inches in front of his face. He coughs softly, his throat itching from the smoke, and his eyes water in the silence, moisture slipping from the corners and collecting in his hair.

Roxas is smiling sincerely, one of those big-ass, honest-to-God happy smiles that no photographer can get a person to fake. He's stretching one arm out and giving some stupid peace sign, reaching the other around Axel's head to fist red hair and pull the man's face close. One foot of his is propped up on a rock, and he looks like one of those goddamn supermodels, he shines so perfectly in the sunlight. He's snuggling comfortably into Axel's frame, his head resting against the older man's shoulder with his blond locks tickling the redhead's chin, and Axel wraps his arm around the boy's waist as he smirks, because he's already vowed never to let the boy go. Roxas is laughing so freely here. He's so happy. So safe. Nothing in the world can bring him down.

The picture continues to hover over Axel's face, but the redhead cannot make out the image any longer. His vision has blurred, and he squeezes his eyes tightly as he lifts his cigarette back to his mouth, pressing his shaking palm fully against his lips as he sucks in a deep, long drag. Tears dribble down his cheeks, and he clenches his jaw as he leans forward and drops the photograph onto the worn and weathered paper, blowing smoke into the air just above the image. Roxas swims in and out of his sight, and with shoulders shaking he digs his elbows against the table's edge, grasping strands of red, untamed hair.

"I'd give anything to have you look at me like that again, Roxy-boy," he whispers, his voice crackling and splintering in the silence.

The rain hisses outside the room and splatters against the uncovered porch, sounding almost like footsteps to his weary mind. Groaning, he leans the back of his right hand against his eyes and puts the cigarette out into the wood, carefully avoiding the two precious papers placed in front of him. What does he care about the burn marks? He'll be gone by morning.

Grunting, he reaches over the letter and wrinkles the map within his hand, dragging it close and planting it firmly on the table. His leg swings out and kicks his pack, scattering it across the carpet, and as he entangles his fingers within tousled, rain-dampened locks he squints at the print, tracing the path he has already taken with his eyes. The gun burns against his hip, and he scowls at the large, red _x_'s that cover Twilight Town, Traverse Town, and Hollow Bastion. He lost track of her in that large city. He'd almost had her then.

Rubbing his hand fiercely over his stubble, he nails and curls a section of the map into his hand. He _will _find her. She can't run forever. She'll get sloppy, and she'll think she's finally safe, and that's when he'll take everything away from her. He'll ruin her, just as she ruined him.

He'll teach her what true suffering really is.

-- - --

He wants to get the hell out of the stinking, rundown motel unseen, so he packs his bag quickly, pulls his hood over wild, uncombed locks of hair, and steals softly out of the room. He slips down the staircase and into the quiet morning, where only the first touches of gray lightened the road, and splashes through puddles with his boots as he quickens along the sidewalk separating the parking spaces from the bottom floor. He digs through his pockets for munny, frowning when judges that the few worn bills and tinkling coins won't be enough for a meal.

Luckily, a vending machine stands in broad view, catching the light of the rising sun. He stalls his step, glancing beyond the edges of his hood for any spectators. When the world remains silent and empty, he drags his step the rest of the way to machine and reaches into the folds of his cloak, pulling forth the weapon that he keeps fastened to his hip out all times. With a final furtive glance cast around him, he sends the gun crashing through the glass, his hand catching on jagged shards as it shatters and then litters the ground. He slips his pack down his shoulder, unzips its mouth, and crams its half-empty bowels full of ninety-nine-cent snacks, not bothering with the munny locked away – gathering it would be too much effort. He almost gets away, too. Slipping the bag over his shoulder again, he is in the midst of stowing his gun back into the depths of his jacket when a voice rings out loud and clear in the parking lot. From beneath his hood he shoots the Good Samaritan a venomous glance, warning him not to get involved.

"You better pay for all that," the man shouts, quickening across the vacant lot. "Do it, or I'm calling the cops."

Whirling on him, Axel extends his arm in one, swift motion, sporting a bleeding hand and wild eyes as he tilts the gun and aims it toward the man's eyes. His accuser freezes, the blood rushing from his face, and Axel glowers at the pathetic person as he stops, takes one step back, and cautiously raises his arms.

"How 'bout you give me your fucking munny and you don't die today," Axel purrs softly, his voice deadly velvet. His eyes are flashing, and his gun is waving mockingly to and fro. "I'm really not in the best mood, you see. Haven't gotten my beauty rest yet."

"Please," he reasons quietly. The redhead sneers. "You don't have to do this. Don't shoot."

Axel rolls his eyes in impatience. "That talking thing. I want less of that. What I _really _want is your wallet." He jerks his gun forward in inch, and the man flinches. "So why don't you play my little game and _cooperate_." The man's shaking, but he hands over his wallet without further question. Axel snatches it away. "Now, was that so _hard_?"

He doesn't reply. Good. At least he knows on what grounds he stands. Axel flips idly through the wallet, his right hand never letting go of the trigger. Absently he pockets the munny, but not before catching sight of a picture of the man with his family. He has a small family, a wife with bright red hair much like his own, a little girl with black locks tied tightly up in a ponytail. She's young, standing next to her parents with a careless smile. They look so happy, and Axel wants nothing more than to spit on them. "Eric, is it?" he snarls roughly as he sights the driver's license. The man nods, sapphire eyes widening but never moving from the shiny gun that Axel holds in hand. Eric's smart. He thinks the minute he gets comfortable Axel will shoot him dead. "Married?" Axel remarks conversationally, though there's an edge to his tone that causes Eric to mumble a reply. Shoving the gun into the man's forehead, he warns, "_Answer_ me."

"Y-y-yes." Eric clears his throat. "Yes."

"She's pretty." He watches Eric closely, and the man flinches in dread. "What's she doing with a coward like you?"

"I don't know." His voice is soft, and his eyes fix themselves pointedly on the gun. Axel smirks, wondering if he's going to be a hero today.

"She could do better." Staring at the eternal smile, he thinks of how he can make her suffer the very way he suffers right now. She can feel her insides rip to shreds, as though they have blown out and she has been left to die. Or he can let her live on happily. It all depends on his mood. "Don't you _think_?" Eric doesn't answer at Axel's lethal tone, fearing that he will make the wrong choice. It makes Axel smirk thinly. It's a simple answer: _yes_, or _no_. Of course, in the foul mood that he's in, he's completely capable of shooting the man should he answer wrong. "How many years?" He'll be merciful for the moment. He'll change the subject.

"One." His voice is steady, and Axel doesn't like that. He shoves the gun into the man's jaw, yanking at the chain around his neck so that it spills out over his rumpled and stained shirt. His thumb runs along the ring that rests faithfully against his broken heart as a constant reminder of what can never be.

"I was supposed to get married," he shows off the ring fondly. "He even got down on one knee, the little dumbfuck." Axel chuckles, remembering. "And then this stupid bitch ran her car into him, spewing his guts all over the street. Such a lovely _whore_, isn't she," he snarls, his voice ripping through his former reminiscence, his eyes brimming with venom as his palm swallows the ring whole.

"I'm s—" Axel slams the gun into Eric's jaw, and the man staggers back, tumbling to the ground. He doesn't want to hear it. Not today. Not right now. He just needs answers. The good memories fade as the present erodes. Axel kicks the fallen man hard in his side.

"Get the fuck up, Eric. She's calling you," he growls, indicating the trilling ring of a cell phone. Slowly but surely Eric stands, but fear swims in those crystal-blue orbs, and Axel looms close in his face. "Ya better fight for her," he leers dangerously, his eyes slanted as the cell phone screams its final ring. "Fight for her, before that fucking whore comes and takes her away from you." He grins grimly, his eyes mirthless as he watches the man reach for the phone in his pocket, and then with a hiss he shoves the gun deeper into Eric's skull.

"What do you want from me?!" he yells, his voice shaking. He's so afraid. Axel pulls the gun away an inch or two, his head cocked to the side, his expression placid.

"Calm down, just calm down." Innocently he raises both hands, gun in right, wallet in left, the shadow of a smirk darkening his lips' corners. The man had issues, yelling at him when he was _just _trying to get information. "I'm not the bad guy here," he assures.

Eric doesn't take his eyes off the gun.

"Do you know anything about Kairi DiCasco, Yuffie Kisaragi, Selphie Tilmitt, or Olette Doyle?" Eric blinks, staring at the gun, searching hard for the right answer. Moments go by, and finally Eric shakes his head. Axel, frustrated, throws his wallet at him, where it strikes the man squarely in the chest. "Then get the fuck out of here, and enjoy you're fucking, grand ol' life. While you _can_, of course." He whirls away from Eric and goddamn happily-ever-after, the fairytale ending that had been robbed from him by a red-haired bitch whose time is slowly dwindling to an end. "_She's coming for you_," Axel hisses in farewell, cackling wildly, hysterical laughter meeting one after the other. And then, in a whirl of dust and the grind of a motor, he's gone.

-- - --

He cuts the engine and kicks another bike, watching with contempt as it wobbles and then crashes down. It's not a good day to be an automobile. Shoving his gun in his pocket – he won't be needing it here – he kicks the door open, and smoke hits his face. His eyes water, but he's smirking. This is home. He had to come back. _Had _to. She has slipped through his fingers, and there is only one person who can help him get back on track. He does't bother to say hello to anyone. Instead, he walks right over to her, to where she's sitting on some pink-haired guy's lap. They look cozy, kissing each other while her friends played pool. Axel doesn't care. He yanks her by the arm, up and away.

She hasn't changed much since the last time, blonde hair still put up in the same bug-haired style, green eyes staring at him with a pissed-off expression. The only thing different about her is the bloody lip she sports. "Larxene."

"What the _hell_?!" she hisses at him. He looks over to the man she had been locking lips with. He's staring at the both of them – at Larxene with longing, at Axel with hatred. His eyes flicker back and forth between them.

"Who's the dyke?"

Larxene digs her nails into his arm, but he doesn't mind. It's just another reminder that this isn't a nightmare, that this is actually happening, that Roxas is dead while he is somehow still living, despite all the beers he has drunk, despite his chainsmoking, despite his lack of sleep and reckless driving. He's alive, and that bitch is going to die, die, _die_. He just needs Larxene's help, and then he can get back onto the road, track that stupid whore down, and really make her pay. Make her cry and sob and scream for mercy. Oh, she'll understand the meaning of true heartbreak. He'll rip her goddamn, fucking heart out of her chest and make her watch with the last remants of her life as he squeezes it as hard as he possibly can. He'll grind her face into the dust and crush her bones until they're fine as powder.

He'll kill her thirteen times over.

"He's my fiancé." Shock hits Axel, soon followed by rage and an emotion he doesn't recognize. Envy. His face betrays no emotions, though. He's calm and collected as he stares into her olive eyes.

"Better run while you still can, Pinky." The remark earns him a punch in the arm, but he's hardly bothered. He doesn't care for Larxene _or _her love life. He only cares for revenge. "I lost her." Larxene watches him carefully, her eyes raking over the resolve in his eyes, before she holds on manicured hand hand up to him and walks over to her fiancé, whispering something calmly into his ear. Axel hands explore his pockets in the meantime, taking comfort in the small object, cool and metallic, that slips against his sweating palm. He can kill them all if he really wants to. He can walk out of there with his drink in hand, blood covering the walls and sloshing onto the floors.

_Flash_. Larxene is pulling him back outside, and the change is not a breath of fresh air. He yearns for the warm indoors, forthe familiar smell of cigarettes, sweat, puke, and alcohol. But she knows something. She has that look in her eye, that mix of maliciousness and what Axel knows everyone sees in his eyes: chaos. He can trust Larxene. They're one in the same. He knows better than to do it, but he knows the option is always there. Calmly he grips his gun, thinking of how he could blow her head off, too. It's always good to know his options.

"Dipshit and Zexion saw her last in Port Royal." She waits as a young couple passes them. It seems as though Cupid wants to taunt him tonight. "They've been tailing her to Pansyland."

"_Wonderland_." He smirks. He has his destination. It's time to go. He turns on his heels, the levers already moving, his next plan already in motion. He doesn't notice Larxene following him to the bike. He slides on his helmet, ready to leave, and is startled when she put her hands on both handlebars. "Let go," he tells her in frustration, but she's not listening to him.

"If you're not convicted, I'd like you to go to my wedding…" She's full of surprises tonight. He narrows his eyes at her in brimming hatred. "Every wedding needs a drunk." Lips quirking, he chuckles briefly, and her olive eyes fill with hope. It's a strange emotion, almost foreign in her eyes. But she wants to be solid again. She wants order, and he can't deal with that. She's the one person who understands, who _knows_ that he's no monster, yet now she's moving on. But he has vowed to never let go of Roxas.

And he never will.

"We'll see what happens." It's lie, but she doesn't notice his bullshit smirk; subtly and wearily he shakes his head. He can't begin to understand what she's becoming. But she seems satisfied with that, and she lets go of the handlebars. The engine roars to life.

"Shoot her in the head for me!" she yells over the clamor. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of the old Larxene, stuck in mid change, fighting the new one. And he knows for sure that he won't come back for her. He can't bear the change.

She turns around, flipping him off as she goes back inside, and he leaves her and her silly hope behind. He had a blondie to avenge, and he won't come back home until that bitch is dead. He rides with haste. The time has come. She has made her flaw, has succumbed to homesickness. Wonderland is just a mere twenty miles – she must have visited friends but hadn't dared to get too close – and he can get there in twenty-five minutes flat.

In no time, he arrives.

He parks on the sidewalk outside of Demyx's apartment. Their lights are out, and he scowls. They aren't home. Digging into his pocket, reaching past his gun, he searches deeper and deeper until he finds his phone. Angrily he punches in the numbers he knows so well.

"Roxas is calling from the undead!" yells Demyx in the background, and Axel wants to punch him in the face. Before he can speak another stupid word, Zexion picks the phone from his hand and says in familiar deadpan, "In the first district." Blunt and to the point – Axel always knew that he liked the bookworm. "Her hair's been dyed black. Wait for the address…"

Axel commits it to memory as Zexion finds it, recites it, and hangs up his phone without another word. He mounts his bike and starts the engine, riding along the sidewalk, getting cussed out by pedestrians with threats of "off with your head!" He flies down the sidewalk, challenging bystanders, smirking wildly beneath the visor of his helmet. When he turns off onto the street, he almost hits a car, but it narrowly swerves past him up onto the curb, where it slams with a thunderous crash into a pole. He almost dies, but he won't allow that. Not just yet. He has one more thing he had to do before he joins Roxas in the next life. Excitement whirls within him. He even wrenches his gun from his pockets and shoots it off a few times, calling on chaos, defying all forces. Finally, after months of waiting, he'll see that blessed sight – her body on the floor, bloody, hardly recognizable anymore. She'll finally pay for the biggest mistake of her life.

He's grinning so hard, and he can't stop. He cuts the engine a block later, and the thrill of the chase is over. He has her cornered. She's done for. He parks, stands up, and walks. "There's a madman!" people scream. Sirens blare. The little town of Wonderland will never be the same after this night, after him, but it's not important.

After this, he can die happy.

After this, he can hold Roxas again.

The numbers are shrinking. He's getting close. Then it's there, right behind the door, and he pulls out his gun and shoots the barrier open. The bullet flies right through the door, and Axel stares at it for a moment. This is it. This is the end. He takes a few steps back, and then, suddenly, he's off like the bullet he has just shot.

He slams into the door. One second it's closed; in the next, out of nowhere, it has opened, and there she stands, right behind the door. She's staring at him as though he's some sort of monster, like she doesn't know the truth. He grips his gun, moving it slowly from his side. She has changed her looks, and her hair is ebony and short. Not her blue eyes, though – they look the same, widened with fear.

Contacts do wonders these days.

"_Gotcha_, Kai-_ri_." He cocks the gun and shoots it in the span of a second, and the bullet hits her straight in the face.

Or it would have, had she stood still long enough. She ducks, but not well enough. The top of her head is soon covered with blood, and she's screaming shrilly. He pushes up on his elbows, stumbling back to his feet up from the spot of ground he had fallen to. She's on her knees now, cupping the side of her head and whimpering, and he wonders why she isn't moving – even when he had set her arm on fire she ran. He picks her up by her hair, viciously gripping the darkened strands in his fist, and she screams and thrashed around. Furiously he rams her face-first into the wall. "You won't get away this time, _Princess_."

"I don't know what you're _talking _about!" she sobs heavily. He drops her instantly. This isn't Kairi. This isn't Kairi, and that very fact is a _very big_ _problem_. She curls up in a ball, and that's fine with him. He staggers away from her, blood on his hands – Kairi's blood on his hands. No. NO, not_ Kairi's_ blood – that _girl's_, in that room. She's not Kairi. Her blood. Her blood. On his hands.

"FUCK!" he screams. He throws the gun across the room. "_FUCK_!" he screams again. It isn't fair. He'd been so _close _– so close, yet not fucking close at all. Innocent blood is his hands, but she's still moving for now. Still, he panics. "Don't fucking move. Don't _fucking _move, or I'll fucking blow your brains out!" He needs to find his gun. "Where's your fucking bathroom?"

She doesn't answer. He runs down the hallway anyway, finding the gun sitting abandoned on the ground. It's covered in blood – not Kairi's blood. He picks it up and pockets it, and he opens the bathroom door. Water is running into the tub – she must have been about to take a bath; a nice bath after a long day. She doesn't deserve this – this isn't her fate. It's Kairi's. He falls to his knees, putting his hands into the sweltering water. He cringes, but it does the job. Clear mixes with red, making the water bloody and disgusting, cleansing his hands. It's not on his hands. When clean, he pushes up away from the tub, glancing toward the mirror.

He could use a shave.

Not now. He has to take care of that girl. Lifting her purse that's sitting on the sink, he pulls out her wallet and then throws the bag into the bloodied water, where it sinks to the bottom. Grunting, he walks away from the bathroom. The water is starting to overflow, but he doesn't bother to turn it off. He likes it the way it is, in complete chaos.

She hadn't listened to him – she'd crawled blindly to the door, and she's pretty close to it. Too bad she'll never make it. He picks her up by the hair again, and she screams. That's enough of that. Winding lithe fingers around her throat, he chokes the scream out of her and slams her hard against the wall. It's Kairi. No. Fuck, it _isn't_ Kairi. "Does the name Kairi mean _anything_ to you?" He loosens his grip, just enough so she can talk. Just enough so she can breathe. "Answer wisely, or I swear to Roxas you'll fucking regret it."

Her tears are falling onto his hand, but he doesn't care. This isn't his fault.

Her blood is drying on her skull.

It's all Kairi's fault.

"No, no, no," she moans, her voice raspy. He throws her in fury, and she slams into the coffee table, instantly unconscious. Walking over to her, he leans down and carelessly pushes hair out of her face, disgusted that he's touching her

"Consider yourself lucky," he says with a sneer, retracting his hand. "It's her fault. All her fault." Straightening, he pulls out his cell phone, punching in numbers that hardly knows. "Yes, I need an ambulance." He's walking out of the apartment, retrieving her wallet from his pocket and flipping it open. "There's a woman here. She's been mugged by some psycho running around." Xion Desylva. She would have had a normal life. She could've lived a happy life. But now she's tainted by Kairi DiCasco, just like everyone else. He hears the sirens as he gets on his bike, and he looks back. All he can see is red.

The motorcycle roars to life, and he makes his getaway.

-- - --

End chapter. Please review.

P.S. MIO FAILS OUT LOUD - THANK YOU AND GOOD NIGHT.


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